


Marine Tale

by ineswrites



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: A sprinkle of violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Drowning, False Memory, Guilt, M/M, Psychosis, Self-Sacrifice, Trauma, fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 04:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18958177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineswrites/pseuds/ineswrites
Summary: Brock was gone, and it was Jack's fault. He had told Brock to get lost, and so he did.He had never regretted anything more.





	Marine Tale

Brock sensed Jack coming in even before he turned to look. A change in the air could be felt; one moment he was finishing getting changed in the locker room, the guys around him complaining about the early mission and twelve hours of flight before them; the other the door flew open, the voices quieted down, and heavy footsteps rushed towards him.

He managed to face Jack right before he was thrown against the row of lockers with a steel grip around his shoulder. He ground his teeth, but otherwise didn't let his pain show. The rest of his teammates pretended to be busy with their own business.

"Where the hell have you been?" Jack growled low enough that the guys on the other side of the room probably didn't hear. _Probably_ , because the room had never been so quiet.

"Work." Brock shrugged Jack's hand off.

Jack scoffed. "As if. I checked in the system. You left past five and didn't come back here."

Brock rolled his eyes. " _Other_ kind of work. Jeez." He nonchalantly turned around and grabbed a holster from his locker. "Clingy much?"

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Brock would have said Jack was losing his patience if he hadn't already lost it before he burst into the room. "If you weren't gonna show up at all despite what day it was, why didn't you at least let me know?"

Brock paused, bent awkwardly, about to strap the holster around his thigh. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Finally, he shrugged, and not looking at Jack, said, "Skipped my mind."

" _Skipped your mind_ ," Jack repeated in disbelief, voice laced with venom. "I was waiting at that stupid fancy restaurant for an hour, looking like a fool. But you never give much thought to what happens to me. It's just Jack, right? He's not that familiar with respect, so why show him any. You know, it would've been better if you just forgot altogether."

That was a lie; it wouldn't have been better, but it wouldn't have been particularly worse.

Brock sighed exasperatedly. He finished strapping his holsters and shut his locker closed. "Oh, get over yourself, Jack. I wasn't disrespecting you."

"Then what was that? Neglect? Even worse."

Brock was on his third eye roll when Jack finally stopped fuming. "You finished?" he said. "You better suit up, we're leaving in five."

"Oh, fuck right off."

Brock braced himself for a blow that never came; instead, Jack turned away and stomped off to his locker.

"We'll have a talk later."

"Nothing to talk about," Jack snarled over his shoulder. "Get lost."

* * *

 

It happened too fast for Jack to avoid it. One moment, he was fighting off a mercenary aboard a ship; the other, he was falling towards rapidly approaching dark surface of the sea.

He didn't register breaking the surface; perhaps he was too panicked. Before he knew, he was fully submerged in ice cold water, his heavy gear and the backpack with arms weighing him down.

He opened his eyes, and they burned. All he could see was darkness. He flailed his limbs, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't reach the surface; he was still falling. His movements became wilder as his urge to breathe in increased; he didn't manage to take a proper breath when he fell. He only took a gulp of seawater.

Despite his burning eyes begging him to close them, he looked up. A beam of light fell upon the surface—a lighthouse?—but he couldn't tell how far away it was, only that it got farther with every passing second, and the need to breathe was getting stronger. His lungs felt empty, the pressure in his trachea barely bearable. His vision darkened again, and he stopped moving.

 _This is how it ends_ , he thought.

He opened his mouth and let the last bubbles of air escape. He felt the salty water fill him. He imagined it pour inside and bloat him. He wouldn’t leave a very good-looking body.

Then, he felt somebody cradling his face. He opened his eyes he didn't realize he had closed and saw Brock's face hovering right in front of his. Before he thought to mouth his name, Brock's lips pressed to his, and he blew. Jack kept the sweet air in his mouth like it was his last resort. Like they had any chance of emerging together.

Then the unthinkable happened: he felt a strong pull, and they were swimming up. He looked at Brock in disbelief and saw something glint in the darkness behind him. Scales?

He was running out of borrowed breath when he broke the surface; he took a big gulp of salty, fishy air as if he was drinking the best drink of his life. Brock didn't emerge beside him, but he could still feel his strong grip on his hips, holding him up, so he wasn't worried.

Hot air blew down on him, and he looked up at the quinjet lowering down. It was now close enough for him to grab a rope hanging from the entrance if he stretched his arm. He climbed onto it; attempted to climb all the way up, but he was too exhausted, so he just let his teammates pull him in. He slumped on the ground where they dragged him over, his limbs feeling like overcooked noodles. Somebody stripped him, someone else covered him with a thermal blanket. He just let it happen. He lay on his side, his eyes still burning, his vision blurry; his left eye completely blacked out. Despite all this, he attentively watched the entrance, waiting for Brock to be pulled in.

He never was.

* * *

 

A search party was sent over the Norwegian Sea even before Jack's team touched base, but at that point, they were looking for a body. The search was called off seventy-two hours later; no trace of Brock was found.

When Jack finally managed to fall asleep, he dreamed of that night, of drowning; of Brock pulling him up and golden scales glinting behind him.

He dreamed of Brock with a golden tail of a fish. As soon as he woke up, he realized that was what he had seen. In an instant, he realized what Brock was and what happened.

Brock was gone, and it was Jack's fault. He had told Brock to get lost, and so he did.

He had never regretted anything more.

He attempted to convince the brass to renew their search, but trying to explain that they should now look for a merman landed him in therapy. The search, of course, wasn't renewed.

"Jack."

He looked up at his therapist; a young woman that, he had been assured, was also a Hydra sleeper agent, so he could talk freely. The problem was he didn't want to talk to her at all; she didn't believe a word out of his mouth anyway.

"You went through a traumatic experience. It is not uncommon for our memories to change to help us deal with what happened."

"I know what I saw," Jack snarled. He didn't like her condescending tone.

"And what was that?" she asked patiently.

"A fishy fucking tail. He had a tail. You don't believe me, but how do you explain he was strong enough to pull me out?"

She glanced at her notes. "You saw it in your dream."

"No! I mean, yes, but..." He sighed and rubbed his temples, then met her patient gaze. "I saw the scales first. In real life. The dream only clarified what they were."

"Jack," she said, pity so clear in her voice it made Jack sick. "Mermaids don't exist. Maybe you did see something, maybe it was a fish. Whatever it was, it created a false memory of Commander Rumlow having a tail."

Jack was shaking his head before she finished speaking. All that sounded very reasonable, sure, but the more he tried to remember what had happened underwater, the clearer he saw the tail. It was long and golden and flowing.

"I know what I saw," he repeated despite knowing he wouldn't convince her. Convincing anyone was a lost cause; he could count only on himself. "I know this sounds like a crazy talk, but he's a merman. He has to be."

"Why is that, Jack?"

"Well, what else could he be with a tail like that?"

"Let's pretend for a moment you didn't see the tail. He jumped into the water after you and pulled you out, but didn't emerge himself. What happened to him?"

Jack knew what answer she was expecting. He wondered if it wouldn't be easier to just give it to her; to admit his mistake and convince everyone else the tail was just a dream.

"Do you feel guilty, Jack?" the therapist asked when the silence prolonged.

Without looking up, Jack slowly nodded. She sighed and leaned against the backrest of her chair.

"Our forty-five minutes is up. I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

 

Renting a sailing boat in Norway turned out to be cheaper than Jack had expected. Not that it mattered much; he was ready to pay any price to get Brock back, but it was a nice surprise.

From the mission reports he managed to estimate the more-or-less exact place of his fall. It didn't matter what the exact coordinates were, anyway. He was sure he would find Brock nearby—or Brock would find him.

He looked around when he reached his destination. He couldn't see land. He was surrounded by the blue of the sky and the blue of the water. There was not a single cloud, no seagulls up nor a fish down. He felt like he was cruising through a void, and he and his little sailboat were the only existing things in the universe.

He approached the railing and stripped. His body trembled violently in the cold, and it recoiled of its own accord when he looked at the even colder water below. But he forced himself to climb over the railing, took a big breath and let go.

He sank below the surface. The ice cold water was a shock that urged him to scream, but he kept his mouth closed, keeping precious air trapped inside. His eyes burned again when he opened them, but this time he was ready for it. He could see the blue of the water, the fish swimming around him, but the vision was blurry. His left eye never regained sight, and he was risking his right now, but that was just another price he was ready to pay.

Minutes passed before his lungs started to burn, and he was forced to let out his breath in a stream of bubbles. He whirled around, feverishly searching for the golden tail or the beloved face. When he closed his eyes in an attempt to clear his vision, hot tears formed behind his eyelids, and with nothing else to focus on, the need to breathe became unbearable.

Then he felt fingers on his cheeks. His body stopped shaking from the cold, and when he opened his eyes, he could see as clearly as before the mission. Brock was smiling at him.

"I'm sorry," Jack mouthed.

Brock grabbed his hands and pulled him down.

Jack let him.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this was supposed to be a merfolk AU. Only as I was writing I realized what the fic was truly about. You could say I was as delusional as Jack.
> 
> I felt like crying when I finished it :(


End file.
